Kelly Rose Bradford: bowled over by Boy's birthday bash

Mar 18 2009 Surrey Herald

So. The concluding part of Boy's birthday. The one where we took a dozen five and six-year-olds bowling. Thankfully, most of the parents stayed too, so stress, tearing out of hair (mine - not the children's) and accelerated ageing was kept to a minimum.

I did not experience Trial by Party Bag as the bowling place provided them, and I dispatched my mother to Asda to buy the birthday cakes. All we had to do was turn up - albeit at 10.30 on a Sunday morning - wear ridiculous shoes and lob a ball about.

Now bowling is a recent discovery for me. I did go years ago when I was seven months pregnant, but given my restricted movement I wasn't overly participatory - plus I had to keep reassuring the staff I was not secreting their bowling balls up my jumper.

But bowling seems to be the thing among Boy and his friends at the moment, so I've been having a rapid indoctrination.

I am totally rubbish at it, and as such did struggle initially to understand the appeal of paying £10 plus to hurl a ball at a load of pins and watch people play fruit machines and smear their faces with ketchup. Because it isn't just bowling, it's a whole amusement arcade-style extravaganza of flashing lights, coin-operated machines and polystyrene trays of chips.

Which, I suppose, is why Boy and his mates love it so much.

It was the perfect choice for his birthday party; a dozen children confined in a small area, food laid on and a host of staff ready to dance the conga and paint faces.

Meaning that I, mercifully, had to do neither.

At the end, Boy's father and I deemed it a success, with no unfortu-nate incidents to report - only a couple of items left behind - two pairs of shoes and a toddler.

The shoe situation indicated that two children had happily trotted off home in bowling shoes, the spare toddler slightly more worrying.

I fed it birthday cake until its mother came back to reclaim it (slightly hysterical as she hadn't realised initially she had left it behind and thought it was lost) and we struggled back to the car with 12 enormous gifts, the leftover shoes and a mighty weight lifted off our shoulders: namely, that it was all over for another year.

So I think finally after six years, I have cracked the whole birthday party thing.

It's simple: hand it all over to someone else, let them provide the food, ensure the venue has a bar and chips, make all the parents stay, and invite as many kids as possible so they keep each other entertained.

Then sit back and observe. Oh, and at the end, keep an eye out for spare babies and shoes...